This Didn't Happen
by Cas di Angelo
Summary: Hermione escapes to Myrtle's bathroom, but she isn't the only one who goes there... Random moments, set in HBP & DH
1. Chapter 1

**Well, this is my first Dramione fic, so I hope y'all like it!**

Hermione's breath racked her whole body and her sobs came out in short, choking breaks. She hugged her stomach and pressed the top of her head against the cold stone wall of Myrtle's bathroom. She had just escaped the Great Hall, barely holding back the tears that were threatening. Now she was crouching in the corner of the bathroom off the second floor corridor and crying her eyes out.

Of course _he_ didn't even notice her; _he_ didn't even consider her feelings. _They _went around snogging all the time, paying no mind to who was watching. Hermione growled and hit the wall with her fist, then realized a second too late what a bad idea that was. She cradled her fist, holding her breath against the sharp pain. After it faded a bit, she pulled out her wand and gently prodded her knuckles, deciding that at least one was broken with several bruises on the way. Muttering a spell to heal the bone, she turned around and put her back against the wall.

_I've never broken any bones before,_ She thought humorlessly. She watched Myrtle drift around the ceiling and let her mind wander. She didn't know how long it was before she heard the door opening.

Her heart suddenly pumping, Hermione leapt up and dashed into a stall. She was about to lock the door, but then she realized it would give her away so she left the door hanging slightly open.

"It's not working!"

Hermione gasped. What was Malfoy doing in a girl's bathroom? She inched closer to the door, trying to see through the crack. He was crouched over a sink, splashing cold water on his face. Myrtle drifted closer.

"You can't expect it to start working all at once," she offered lightly. That was clearly not what Malfoy wanted to hear.

"It's got to work," he growled. "He expects me to get so much done, but I'm not sure I can anymore!"

"You could start by getting a good night's sleep," Myrtle sniffed. "You might be able to focus better."

"I _can't_," Malfoy's voice cracked and he buried his face in his hands. "When I try to relax, it's like He _knows, _and it—it burns—" He grunted in pain and wrenched up his left sleeve to run his arm under the cold water.

Hermione bit back a squeak. Plain as day on Malfoy's arm was the Dark Mark. She felt like her mind was exploding.

Malfoy was now sobbing lightly, rubbing the black ink on his arm. "It's no use, Myrtle," he whispered—Hermione could barely hear him over the running water. "He's going to kill me."

"Death isn't so bad," Myrtle was floating idly by, gazing at his tattoo.

Malfoy bit his lip, fighting back another onslaught of tears. _I don't want to die,_ he mouthed.

Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from him. He truly seemed terrified, and she felt a natural urge to comfort him. But she recoiled, stepping back away from the door. _He _wouldn't want her help. She leaned against the stall, freezing when it creaked. She reached for her wand to perform a _muffliato_ charm, only to curse silently at herself; her wand was on the floor by the wall where she'd been sitting.

"What was that?" Malfoy asked with his voice full of fear.

"Oh, the noise?" Myrtle said airily. "That was just Granger. She's in just as awful of state as you are."

Hermione groaned inwardly before stepping out of the stall. Avoiding Malfoy's gaze, she retrieved her wand and made to leave.

"Hold up, Granger," Malfoy pointed his wand at her. She noticed his hand was shaking. "How much did you see?"

She thought about lying, but knew it would be pointless. Hermione wouldn't put Malfoy past using an Unforgivable curse.

"Everything," she said softly.

Malfoy visibly paled and fell back against the sink. "You're going to report me, aren't you, Granger?"

Hermione bit her lip as she imagined running to one of the professors… but somehow it didn't sit right in her mind. She shook her head.

Looking slightly satisfied, Malfoy turned back to the sink and turned off the water, picking up a towel to dry his face and his arm.

After a moment's hesitation, Hermione approached Malfoy. "If you want I could teach you a spell that will numb your arm," she offered, though she had no idea why. "That way you could get a few hours of sleep."

Malfoy's eyes met hers in the mirror, and she held her breath for a second. She never noticed how… _blue_ they looked; she'd assumed they were just grey. He was silent for a minute, watching her.

"Is it difficult?"

Hermione's eyebrows twitched. _Is what difficult?_ She wondered. Then she remembered. _The spell!_ Flustered, she nodded. _How could she have forgotten what she said just a minute ago?_ She showed Malfoy how to move his wand, and once she was convinced he knew it, she taught him the word.

"I think that will help," Malfoy said when the mini-lesson was done. "Thanks, Granger," he lifted the corner of his mouth slightly.

Hermione blushed and returned the smile, twisting her wand in her hand. "Here, I'll do it—" She muttered the spell and pointed her wand at the black tattoo on Malfoy's arm.

Malfoy blinked in surprise, touching his skin lightly. "Well, it doesn't hurt anymore," he twisted his arm, flexing his hand. "I think I may have found a new favorite spell."

Hermione racked her brain, trying to think of something to say. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll—" She turned on her heel and headed to the door.

"Your eyes are still red,"

Hermione stopped, glancing back at Malfoy. He folded his arms across his chest and smirked at her. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. _Holy cricket,_ she thought, _my eyes _are_ red! And swollen, I can't believe I almost went into the hall… full of students…_ She grimaced and trudged back to a sink to wash her face. As she did so, she felt very self conscious; Malfoy was still watching her. When she was done, she straightened and matched his gaze.

"Why did you help me?" he asked suddenly. "I've been nothing but nasty to you since we met, so you had no reason to be nice to me."

Hermione pressed her lips together. There had to be an answer, there just had to be… anything but the truth. She lifted her chin. "I'm not that kind of person," she said finally. "I help those in need, and…" Hermione bit her lip as she realized how pathetic her excuse sounded. Her cheeks heated up as her eyes strayed to his left forearm.

Malfoy stayed quiet, and Hermione ducked her eyes. "I'm just not spiteful by nature."

Malfoy laughed suddenly. "I heard what you did to Weasley," he grinned. "Sending a flock of birds after him isn't spiteful?"

Now Hermione was _really _blushing. "He deserved it," she huffed. "He was being a prat." She stared at herself in the mirror to avoid the amused gaze of Malfoy.

He chuckled a bit, but then the smile was gone. "Seriously, though," he frowned. "Why did you help me? You know I'm a Death Eater," he pointed out.

"I heard what you said," Hermione avoided his eyes. "It seems like you didn't want to be a—didn't want to—" She clamped her jaw shut. Honestly, if she kept talking she would say far too much. They remained silent for another minute or so.

"I didn't want to be," Malfoy affirmed quietly. When Hermione turned around, she saw him glaring at his Dark Mark. "He threatened to kill my parents if I didn't. He said it was my fault they failed and I had to redeem their honor."

Hermione cautiously stepped forward, her eyes trained on the black skull and snake. Her mind was buzzing in light of the situation. This was _definitely _not normal for either of them, but in the secrecy of Myrtle's bathroom it seemed neither of them cared. Hermione lightly brushed her fingers against the Dark Mark. The tips of her fingers tingled.

"It's strange…" she breathed. It seemed she couldn't look away now. "I'd read about Death Eaters, and never really pictured them as humans, much less wizards…" She blinked and stepped away from Malfoy; she'd realized just how close she had been standing. "It was like they were some kind of Dementor or something like that."

Her eyes locked with Malfoy's, and she saw something flicker across his face; but before she could decipher what it was it was gone. He lifted the corner of his mouth.

"That's where we're different, I think," he mused. "I grew up knowing what my father was, I just never imagined I would be one, too."

"Neither did I," Hermione said automatically. Surprised registered on Malfoy's face, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, blushing furiously. There it was—she'd said too much. She glanced at Malfoy, who was now looking a bit confused.

"You never thought I'd be a Death Eater?" He asked incredulously.

Hermione, who didn't trust herself to say anything out loud, simply nodded. Malfoy snorted.

"You're funny, Granger," he chuckled. Then, seemingly without thinking, he reached out a hand and ruffled her hair.

Hermione stuck her chin out. "What's that supposed to mean?" She reached up; meaning to mess up his blond hair, but Malfoy caught her wrist.

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. "For the brightest witch of our age, you really are dense."

Hermione frowned. _Where did that come from?_ It was then that Hermione realized her hand was resting on Malfoy's shoulder and he was stroking her wrist with his thumb. She stared at her wrist, her face growing hot. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She swallowed.

"If I'm so dense," she forced out. "Then what am I missing?" She moved her gaze to meet his eyes.

Malfoy smiled. "This," Without warning, he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against hers. But as soon as it happened, it was over.

Hermione blinked and inhaled sharply; she'd been holding her breath again.

"This didn't happen," Malfoy said. Hermione watched as he left the bathroom, pulling his robes into place. "See you later, Granger."

It was a good ten minutes before Hermione realized Myrtle was still in the bathroom. She stared at the door, baffled.

"What the _hell?_"

**Well, what do you think? I have a sort of confrontation in mind, but I'm not entirely sure I want to continue this… should I?**


	2. Chapter 2

Draco stared numbly at his hands. Potter and his friends had just escaped, and everyone was sitting silently in Malfoy Manor; except Bellatrix, of course—she was in a rage about what had just happened. Draco felt utterly hopeless. The Dark Lord was coming, Draco knew because the Dark Mark on his arm was burning steadily worse. He wished he could remember the spell Granger had taught him last year. Wouldn't do much good anyway; Draco had lost his wand to Potter.

A horrible image flashed through his head; Granger lying motionless on the floor, blood trickling from the word 'Mudblood' carved into her skin. The sight of her, defenseless and broken on the floor had truly shaken Draco, though he didn't quite know the reason why.

Draco's mind flew back to that day in sixth year, when Granger had found him in Myrtle's bathroom. She'd seemed shaken by something, but she still had her fiery spirit. Draco had seen no trace of that girl as he watched her endure his aunt's torture.

He pressed his lips together, randomly trying to remember the taste of Granger's lips. It had been so long ago… Draco shook his head. If Voldemort saw those thoughts in his head, Draco was as good as dead. But Draco could not banish the image of her… her eyes were red from crying, but inside them he could see pity, not hatred or annoyance as was so often present. Whatever Draco had felt that afternoon had caused him to kiss her, though he didn't know what it was…

A cold chill ran through the house, and the tattoo on Draco's arm burned so badly that he couldn't help but cry out in pain. The Dark Lord had arrived.

Tears of pain filling his eyes, Draco did his best to erase all thoughts of Hermione from his mind, as ready as he would ever be to face Voldemort.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione sank down on a stone bench just outside one of the smaller courtrooms. She had just finished giving her statement about Draco Malfoy during his trial, and now she was too exhausted to do anything but wait for Harry and Ron to finish theirs. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. All the captured Death Eaters had been put to trial, and she'd been called in for any she'd 'interacted' with. Malfoy's was the last one of the day.

The door opened, and the Wizengamot streamed out, followed by Harry and Ron.

"We're going to get something to eat," Ron said, sitting down next to Hermione. "Want to come with?"

Hermione leaned on Ron's shoulder. "I don't think I can stay awake long enough to sit through a meal," she said. She nodded to the retreating backs of the Wizengamot. "What's going on?"

"Fifteen minute recess," Harry said. "Should we bring you back some coffee?"

"Yes, please," Hermione said gratefully. She looked up at Ron. "You know my favorite."

Ron smiled, planting a light kiss on her lips. "We'll be back before you know it," he stood and followed Harry down the hall.

Once they were out of sight, Hermione looked at the courtroom door. Malfoy hadn't come out… was he still in there? Her curiosity getting the better of her, Hermione stood and opened the door. Sure enough, in the center of the room was Draco Malfoy, hanging his head in his hands. He looked up at the sound of the door.

"I hoped I could talk to you," he said, turning in the chair.

"About what?" Hermione leaned against the front pews opposite Malfoy.

Malfoy studied her face, his entire countenance looking just as exhausted as Hermione felt. Suddenly he blurted out,

"You gave them a positive statement," he said. "Why? You were perfectly entitled to tell them I was guilty."

Hermione looked at her feet, thinking about her reasons. She remembered a day in Myrtle's bathroom that seemed like forever ago. She remembered how that little meeting had helped her through the rest of sixth year—at least until Ron dumped Lavender. She looked up and smiled kindly at him.

"I know you're not guilty," she said. "You told me so during sixth year."

Malfoy slumped back against his chair. "What about what happened back at—at the—" he couldn't seem to say 'Malfoy Manor', but Hermione knew what he meant. She unconsciously touched the scar on her left forearm.

"You didn't do anything there," she said quietly. "That was all Bellatrix."

"So you told them I'm innocent because of what happened two years ago?" Malfoy asked. When Hermione nodded, he continued. "What about Potter? He told them roughly the same thing, that I was pressured into being a Death Eater. Did you tell him to say that?"

"I don't know what Harry knows," Hermione said. "I never told anyone about what happened in Myrtle's bathroom."

"Why not?" Malfoy scoffed.

"I was confused at first," Hermione said slowly. "I still don't quite know what to make of it. But it felt nice having a secret that I could keep all to myself."

"Huh," Malfoy looked down at his knees. "I guess I should count myself lucky. You and Potter were nice to me, but I can't expect the same thing from Weasley."

"That's not true," Hermione said. "Ron might act offensive, but he won't condemn you if he doesn't think you deserve it."

"What if he thinks I _do _deserve it?"

Hermione shook her head. "Then it's two accounts against one. You're not a bad person, you were just raised differently." She heard echoing footsteps coming down the hall and started for the door.

"Granger," Malfoy called. Hermione stopped just short of the door; she could see Harry and Ron coming down the hall.

"Yes, Malfoy?" she turned back to him.

"Thank you," he said. "And I'm sorry… for everything."

For a split second, Hermione doubted his apology. But then she saw the remorse in his face and how he seemed so… broken. Hermione sighed and hoped whatever sentence he would receive wouldn't be too harsh.

"You're welcome," Hermione said. "Good luck with the rest of the trial."

She turned and stepped out the door, greeting Ron and Harry and taking her coffee that they brought for her. The Wizengamot was starting to filter back down the hallway, talking softly among themselves. Hermione had a sudden thought and pulled Ron aside.

"What are you planning on saying about Malfoy?" she asked.

"Why?" Ron asked. "Are you worried about him?" Hermione could hear a hint of jealousy in his voice that made her giggle. She stretched up and kissed his cheek.

Ron looked slightly grumpy. "Well, I was going to rant about how he's a foul git who deserves it…"

"But?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"But I don't think that would sit well with you," he sighed. "I still don't think he should get off lightly."

"He didn't do anything on his own but call me 'mudblood," Hermione said. Ron flinched slightly. "And he even apologized for that."

"He apologized?" Ron asked, surprised. "And how do you know he couldn't wait to sign up for You-Know-Who?"

Hermione ducked her eyes. "Because he told me so," she said quietly.

"What, today? How do you know he wasn't just trying to get off easy?"

"No," Hermione said. She bit her lip, wondering just how much she should tell Ron. "He told me during sixth year. I found him one day and he just… told me."

Ron pulled her into a hug and lifted her chin so their gazes could meet. He narrowed his eyes and sighed.

"And you're sure you haven't gone mad?" he asked seriously.

Hermione laughed, and her mood lightened as Ron smiled at her.

"I believe you," he said. "And if you say Malfoy is innocent, then he was as good as imperiused in my book."

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione stood on tip-toe to kiss him.

"Ron, you need to get in there," Harry called from where he was sitting on the bench. "The recess is almost over."

"Alright," Ron shook his head. "Let's get this over with," he sighed.

Hermione sat down on the bench next to Harry as Ron closed the door behind him. She sipped at her coffee, half wishing she had an Extendable Ear. They had to wait much longer than before; Ron must have stayed while the Wizengamot gave their final verdict. After almost half an hour, the door opened and Ron came out, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"What took so long?" Harry asked.

"They wanted to question me," Ron said. He sat next to Hermione and pulled an arm around her waist. "I answered as best as I could, and told them Malfoy was the best ferret anyone could ever see."

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing, and Ron grinned in spite of himself.

"Is that really what you said?" Hermione said as she laughed.

"Of course," Ron shrugged. "But you should have seen Malfoy's face, he turned red and looked like he was trying not to laugh."

"And of course you looked completely serious when you said it," Harry said.

"Of course," Ron agreed. "They didn't know what to make of it. That's why they questioned me, they were trying to figure out exactly what I meant."

"And what did you mean?" Hermione asked.

Just then the door opened a second time and the Wizengamot filed out, followed by Malfoy being escorted by a pair of Aurors. He stopped in front of the trio.

"I just wanted to say thank you," Malfoy said. "I know I didn't deserve what you said."

"It wasn't a problem," Harry said. He stood and offered a hand for Malfoy to shake.

"Perhaps now we can part as acquaintances," Ron said.

"Indifferent acquaintances," Malfoy agreed, shaking Harry's hand. He also shook Ron and Hermione's hands before striding down the hall flanked by the two Aurors.

As Hermione watched him go, she thought about the day they'd met in Myrtle's bathroom, and she wondered vaguely if there were some questions in life that would remain unanswered. _Yes,_ she thought grimly. _Yes, there are. You can't do anything about it. But like he said, it didn't happen._

**FIN**


End file.
